War Drums
by dab-of-paint
Summary: Izuku Midoryia was less than others. She did not possess what made them more. But she wasn't the only one that was discriminated, bullied, lied to. Not the only one that suffered because society pushed them into their little crates of uselessness, of being less than those who were more. Be afraid world, be very afraid – because the revolution has only just begun. Fem!Izuku
1. One

_**Welcome, dear readers! My muse hit me with a crowbar after I read Boko No Hero Academia and since I did not find any stories out there where Izuku remained quirkless, I decided to write my own version. Because Izuku is full of conviction and will-power and really - even if he did not get All Mights Power, he would have probably done something about it. And Fem!Izuku, because I can relate better with women, because, well... I am one. And I'm kind of a crack-shipping addict with Fem-main-characters.**_

 ** _Also this is kind of a sneak-peak, I want to know what you think about a story with a revolutionary approach like this. Because - let's face it - quirkless people seem to be kinda discriminated against even in canon._**

 ** _[edit] I found a pretty critical error here - I said bone, what I really meant was joint... damn._**

* * *

"Even the strongest blizzards start with a single snowflake."  
― Sara Raasch, Snow Like Ashes

* * *

 _One_

4 years

* * *

Izuku Midoryia was four years old, tiny and adorned with a little pink bow in her hair when the doctor told her mother – _speaking as if she wasn't there anymore_ – that she was quirkless. He explained – _only to her mother_ – with pity in his voice, that she would never develop the _moreness_ , because she had a joint too much and thus she would be _less_. And she did not understand, because why would a stupid joint dictate her future like that? Couldn't they just take one part out? _And why didn't the doctor look at her anymore?_ Her mother was crying. Izuku frowned, because didn't she understand? Surely, she would not be quirkless– they just had to take a part of her toe out - then she would be a _hero_ , she would be _more_ – just like All Might.

But her mother didn't understand. And loosing a joint wasn't enough. And she wouldn't be a hero.

And she would be _less_.


	2. Two to Five

**_Thank you for your favourites and reviews! They mean a lot and motivate me so much!_**

* * *

"Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him."  
― Jennifer Donnelly, Revolution

* * *

 _Two_

 _5 years_

* * *

She had a friend once. He was fierce and burning brighter than the sun and he was always just _there_. He wasn't a particularly nice individual and quite often, he said things that hurt others – hurt _her._ But when they played Hero and Villain with his group of friends, he always convinced the others that _she would be a good hero, just you wait!_ And then her fourth birthday came and went, and she did not develop her mothers' attraction or her fathers' breath of fire. And then Kacchans' – _her very best friends' –_ fourth birthday came, and he _exploded_ his exam sheet. She _hoped_ with all of her tiny being that she was a late bloomer. There have been occurrences where a quirk manifested later in life – some people had been a whole 6 years old!

They visited the doctor – just to be sure. At home she watched All Mights' videos _over and over again._

"Mom, I'm gonna be a hero. I'm sure. I'm gonna be a hero."

 _"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry!"_

She told Kacchan and –

 _"You can't play with us anymore! Without a quirk you'll never be a hero! Useless Deku!"_

She was five and no one wanted to play with her anymore.

* * *

 _Three_

 _6 years_

* * *

Her father left. Two years after the fateful day in the doctors' office the tension between her parents seemed to _snap and fizzle – a lot like Kacch- Katsukis' explosions._ Her mother was screaming at her father, calling him bad names and Izuku sat leaning against her door, hands on her ears – _but she heard them anyways._

" _I can't live like this anymore!"_

 _"You can't treat our daughter like this!"_

 _"What is she going to become? A cleaning lady?! There are people with cleaning quirks, there are tons of people who are better at everything than her!"_

 _"Stop right there-"_

 _"And who is going to marry her? The chance that her little bastards are quirkless too is always there – and so she will always-"_

 _"She's going to be a wonderful woman and her children will be perfect the way they are! How can you say things like that?"_

Her mothers' voice broke at the end of the sentence and Izuku felt herself tremble.

 _"And you! You should stop coddling her! And you should stop looking for why she is like this! And this constantly blaming yourself for her goddamn disability-"_

 _"She's our daughter!"_

 _"She's a cripple!"_

The door slammed. It sounded final, like the last forlorn sound of a sonnet. Like the last whispers of a dying man. Like her world crumbling down – _oh so slowly._

She heard her mother sob – _only once._

The door slammed again.

 _She was alone._

* * *

 _Four_

 _7 years_

* * *

Her father did not come back, but her mother did. She was quiet and withdrawn, but she tried to smile for Izuku and she was happy that she had _this_ left. _This,_ this slow, heartfelt, sweet smile of her mother and her warm hugs and her love filled eyes. _This,_ she valued above everything.

And thus, she did not tell her mother about the jeers, the beatings, the hair pulling, the shoving, the hateful name calling. She bore it with a sense of finality, with a sense of hopelessness – because even if her mother thought of her as _just enough_ , the teachers and her classmates made her all the more aware that she was _less._

Home was a _dream_ and school was _cruel reality._

* * *

 _Five_

 _8 years_

* * *

She met a girl on the streets. And she was like her. Izuku had never met someone like herself. She'd bumped into the girl quite by accident, since she was carrying a few groceries for her mother in both hands and didn't see very much above the towering paper bags. The girl helped her gather the fallen items – _and stole the bananas and a loaf of bread, she later realized._ They talked a little and Izuku learned that the girl called herself Munchkin because she had no other name and it sounded cute – like munchkin cats with their little legs. Munchkin lived on the streets and wasn't sure how old she was. Izuku shyly – _distrustfully –_ said that her dream was to be a hero – _was it really? She wasn't sure anymore._ Munchkin laughed and Izuku flinched sharply, drew into herself, started mumbling excuses and backing away. But Munchkin put one of her dirty hands on Izukus' shoulder to stop her from leaving and pinned her with a serious look.

 _"Society would never allow a quirkless hero_."

And with a wry twist of her lips: _"And society is always right."_

 _But what if it wasn't?_

That day, Izuku asked her mother how one would describe it, if the society, the whole system of a state would just – _suddenly_ – change.

 _"Revolution."_ , her mother said.

A steady drumming noise started in her heart, vibrated through her fingers and up into her head, until all she could see, all she could feel was her hands – _clenched and small, but not useless._

 _"Revolution.",_ she repeated.


	3. Six to Eight

_**I hope you enjoy this chapter! Also, you probably already noticed that there are going to be quite a lot OCs. I'm sorry about that, but I feel this is kind of needed, because the manga and anime mostly focused on those epic people with epic powers and these people here need to feel oppressed because of their status as kinda "sub-human" or maybe sympathize to a ridiculous degree with people - because of siblings e.g.**_

 _ **Review-Corner:**_

 _ **GUEST00197 : Thank you very much for your support! As long as my muse lets me, I'm going to write as much as possible - and I actually have a lot of ideas how I want to structure this. **_

_**Shiranai Atsune: Here you have your answer :) And I have some plans for the villain alliance - but they don't have the same kind of ideals exactly and the villain alliance is at it's core rather evil, so no, they will most certainly not team up in that sense. Also - I thank you very much for your support! **_

_**Shadowing : Haha, thank you! I hope a few other authors will be inspired by this - maybe we'll get a few more fem!Izuku or quirkless!Izuku out of that :) **_

_**You guys rock!**_

 _ **Thank you for all of your support!**_

 _ **And on we go:**_

* * *

"People have only as much liberty as they have the intelligence to want and the courage to take."

― Emma Goldman

* * *

 _Six_

 _9 Years_

* * *

She met Munchkin again and they became kind of friends. _At the start, it was more like a symbiosis._ Izuku would learn how to be one with the crowd - _almost invisible_ , how to hit where it hurts – _cowardly but oh so effective,_ how to bear the beatings with minimal damage – _it hurt anyways, but she never let them break her bones anymore_. In exchange, Izuku tried to make her mother adopt Munchkin – _Munchkin wasn't amused, she couldn't be found, not again, they'd get her, please don't_ – and after this didn't work out like she hoped, she brought her food, brought her clothes that were her own – _but she'd gladly share with her- her friend, she was precious –_ and she snuck her into her bedroom and let her sleep there and use the shower when her mother was at work.

 _They worked like this._

 _She was happy._

And she hoped Munchkin was, too.

Munchkin introduced her to her friends – _comrades, she called them, brothers and sisters in everything but blood._ Izuku felt a little overwhelmed – _some of those people looked like they were already 16 or older!_ Most of them were friendly, some of them a little cold, some indifferent. Izuku asked what they were doing in that old abandoned warehouse and Munchkin explained that they lived here. _This was home._ With cracked windows, old mattresses, mouldy blankets and furniture that had been stolen from the recycling depot – _and crates full of money, knickknacks, stolen good_. Munchkin made her swear that she told no one about this – _and Izuku would never break her trust._

"We're thieves. Most of us are quirkless or have a quirk that is so insignificant that we're useless to modern society.", one of the older boys explained. She regretfully forgot his name, but she thought it started with 'P', it was something European anyway.

 _"If we don't steal, we don't survive."_ It sounded so final, so hopeless and she was reminded of her own _crumbling, crumbling world_ – but then she thought about that word again.

 _Revolution._

"What if… what if you didn't need to steal?", she asked tentatively and earned sceptical looks. But she wouldn't stop now. Because in the eyes of the younger ones, the ones that were even younger than herself – she saw _hope._ Small and only a little flicker of a flame – _but it was there._

"What if society as a whole would _change_ , what if we could show them that quirkless people aren't useless, that we aren't _less_ than them just because they got something _more_?", she was speaking fast, almost stumbling over her words in her nervousness. There was still disbelieve on the faces of some, but more had caught on, more looked hopeful.

"And how would we do that?", Munchkin asked, her eyes sharp.

Izuku gulped audibly and inhaled deeply.

 _"We start a revolution."_

She was nine and she wasn't the only one that felt drums rattle her bones.

* * *

 _Seven_

 _10 Years_

* * *

The French revolution, she learned, was bloody. Izuku looked up at the giant painting, framed in gold.

 _Eugène Delacroix - La liberté guidant le people (replica)_

 _Liberty is leading the people_ , translated the tiny sign underneath.

So many dead, but those that stood over them looked so heart wrenching _hopeful._ And the woman, standing tall and swinging the French flag with conviction, looked over her people with the steely assurance that _this is right, this is our hope, this is our revolt._ Izuku felt her breath hitch.

 _This – this was what they needed._

Her mother had brought her to the local history museum when she uttered her wish to learn more about their past. Because, even though she knew that a change was needed, she just didn't know how or where to _start_.

 _But now she knew where to start looking._

* * *

It wasn't the perfect model of a revolution, what with going from one absolute to basically the same absolute - but _worse_. _Their_ revolution wasn't about taxes and a shortage of food.

But it kind of was about kings and queens that had _so very much_ , while they had _so very little_.

Another startling difference was that they - the quirkless - were only about 20 percent of the population. There was no small percentage of the elite but a staggering difference between numbers in their case. But, she supposed, it wasn't only _them_ \- it was also those who had quirks that just weren't good enough in the eyes of society, so they probably could push the number of people who weren't okay with things up.

And was it really about numbers? Couldn't they, if they managed to bribe - _threaten_ \- the right people, made the right debut in public, managed to sneak in the right people in high political positions, make a difference even if they weren't many?

She wondered.

Her mother - _she'd gained weight, too much fast food, too much work, just too much_ \- smiled a tired smile at her. And Izuku smiled back as brightly as possible with as many teeth and as many creases at her eyes as possible. Her mothers' smile brightened slightly in response, and Izuku felt her mission has been accomplished.

"Thank you.", she said, heartfelt, because her mother didn't have a lot of time - not with her subpar quirk that just skirted the border of uselessness - _not with having to feed both of them_. This visit of the museum was a gift and dug into their funds

She chanced one last look at the information boards.

 _Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité -_ Freedom, Equality, Fraternity

She _liked_ the sound of that.

What did one need, to start a revolution?

She was ten and she might have an idea for their motto.

* * *

 _Eight_

 _11 Years_

* * *

The first time she stole something - not for herself, but for her friends _\- brothers and sisters and comrades_ \- she was ten years old.

The first time she hit _back_ \- because they hit her friend and _how dare they_ \- she was eleven years old and full of conviction. A bright fire burned in her chest that she shared with _her people_ now, with her heartbeat in her ears like a drum. The young teen was enrolled in her school and although she couldn't for the life of her remember when she'd ever seen him, he seemed to know her or rather know of her. Especially about her status as one of the _quirkless_.

She and Munchkin were having a good time, talking about their plans _\- their dreams of a brighter future_ , talking about the last exploits of the resident troublemaker _\- it was Peter, the European with a 'P' in his name_ \- in their fold, when a voice rudely interrupted them.

"Aren't you that Deku chick?"

What one has to be aware of here is that Munchkin, as flighty and distrustful as she was at the start of their friendship, had a loyal streak that was _miles wide_. So she wouldn't allow anyone to talk like that to her sister in all but blood. Because she _was_ , now that they had a common goal, that they knew each other inside out.

So Munchkin punched that guy in the nose without much fanfare.

In that moment another teen came running, a friend of that first one, apparently, because he boxed Munchkin in the ribs.

And really, even if her friend had thrown the first punch _\- no one touched her friend and got away with it._

Izuku planted a well-placed hit in the solar plexus of the offender and smoothly delivered a kick between the legs of the other. In the small pause that took place - with _both_ adversaries down - Munchkin stared at her - and _smiled_.

They ran away after that, with high spirits because these guys most probably had quirks and they hadn't been fast enough to use them and that's when another realization hit home.

 _One just had to be fast enough._

* * *

In school, she met the eyes of the teen that had been hit by her friend head-on. They were green, she noticed. Green and slightly narrowed. " _You_.", he said and dipped his head at her, while he passed. And, she wondered, looking after him - had that been _respect_ in his eyes? She'd only seen respect in the eyes of her own - for her ideas, for her visions, for her determination not to sink, but to float, to _soar_.

The other guy wasn't the same - he started harassing her. Throwing her books out of the window in lunch breaks, shoving her into the lockers, slapping her food out of her hands. And she took it because if their plan should work, she needed to be _useless_ in the eyes of society. Yes, they'd knocked both of those teens out a few days prior, but only because _who would believe them_? And also - she admitted with a small crease between her brows - because both Munchkin and her were maybe a little hot-headed, when they wanted to protect something or someone. Which they had to work on. They needed a _lot_ more self-control if they wanted to change society.

Katsuki Bakugou, her former friend - and that still _hurt_ \- noticed the harassment and in his typical manner he made a contest out of it. Who could do the most damage, who could make her _break_ before the other?

She wondered about him, sometimes. How could one become so cruel? Would he have been as cruel to her if she'd lost an arm, or a leg, had been disabled in _any other way_ but by not having a quirk?

And then, one day it escalated beyond reason and her head was pushed _down, down, down_ in the school toilet in the girls' loo and she thought she would _drown_ and she was just about to snap and just about _to stab this bastard_. She had the knife in her hand then, fitting snugly, drums starting to pound in her head, when he was ripped off her.

"The hell do you think you're _doing_?", hissed the green-eyed boy, shoving the other - _wasn't that his friend?_ \- against the wall.

She was coughing and gasping for breath, vomiting noisily into the toilet after catching a glimpse of her saviour - helper, person with common sense, _she didn't like calling someone saviour even if it was only in her head_.

They said more things - too muffled for her to make out, with her head pounding - and she thought she heard hitting noises, but her head swam, and she still felt nauseated. Her grip on the knife didn't falter - whoever won wouldn't _stop_ her from changing the world, _no one would_ \- one day she _would change it_ , she'd promised herself - and _she couldn't die before that_. She felt delirious.

Izuku slumped against the stall, eyes half-lidded and held onto consciousness with only steely determination.

"You alright?"

A blurry blob appeared in her vision - plain brown hair, striking green eyes. She tried to focus on them, because their colour was _oh so very bright_ and everything else swam unsteadily.

She swallowed dry and croaked out a wheezy _yes_ \- because she didn't need help from these people - she wasn't weak, she wasn't less, not really - and they would _learn_ , someday.

"You should hide the knife. You could get suspended if someone sees." Her grip tightened on her only weapon and he noticed. "I won't take it, just hide it. You can still grip it while hiding it in your pocket. Here- let me help you up." She tried to protest, when he carefully guided her hand to the pocket of her sweater and hefted her up by the waist.

"Wait.", she croaked as the world tilted dangerously. She took a deep breath and some of the nausea receded.

He helped her clean up with first wet paper towels and then dry ones.

She hated him a little for that. For letting her lean on him, for helping her when she could have - _would have_ , done something about that asshole, even if it would have meant her suspension from school - would have even meant a criminal record and for helping her _now_ , when she didn't want anyone to see such _weakness_.

He told her he would bring her to the school nurse and she vehemently ordered him _to not do that_ \- because it would be told to her mother and her mother was one of the most important people in her life and she did not want her to worry herself to death.

So they sat in the schoolyard, behind a small hill, ignoring the ringing that signalled the end of the break.

"I'm sorry.", he said.

"For what? You were a perfect _hero_ there." She almost spat the word. Heroes - those mercenaries that helped people only to gain money and fame and show those that were not even allowed to _try_ how very much _moreness_ they had. Maybe she was a little bitter - _having her dreams stomped on like that could make a person pretty angry_ , she supposed.

His cynical laughter made her start.

 _He had a useless quirk_ , he said. Well, _they_ thought his quirk was useless. He could change one of his fingers into a key. His own housekey to be precise. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

That day, he only jeered at her because he had been _so so very angry_ , at himself, at his parents, at _everything_ and _everyone_ \- that he just wanted someone to be worse off than himself.

So he apologized again, not only for that but also for the one who held her underwater - almost drowned her, and wasn't that _terrifying_?

"You hit him. Isn't he your friend?" He wasn't. He actually was just a territorial bully that didn't like if his victims were hit by someone else. He had _problems_ , that guy.

Izuku felt the world slow down slowly - her vision no longer blurry around the edges but sharp as ever.

"Who are you?", she asked and when he said his name - Kokoni Ki - she asked again, because she did not mean that. She did not mean something as plebeian as a _name_ , she wanted to know _who he was_.

He told her. Told her about parents who _loved_ him but just didn't _understand_ , a brother that could open any lock, that he had to choose his next school in a few weeks, _but who would take him_? He didn't have the best grades; his quirk was basically useless and the only skill he had was an overabundance of hacking knowledge and who needed _that_ if there were people out there that could _do this so much better than him_.

 _"I'm not needed. You're not needed."_

And when she looked at him, small but so very tall when he had saved her, when he had pulled her tormentor off her, she decided that they - _her people and her_ \- they could _use_ someone like him, they could _need_ him, they could _benefit_ from him.

 _"But you could be. And I could be."_

And in his heart, drums started beating - quiet and slow, but _there_ nonetheless.


	4. Nine to Eleven

_**Finally, we're at the interesting part. We'll be diving head-first into canon and then rip it into shreds!**_

 _ **A small info-corner about Japans government structure:**_

 _ **"The National Diet (国会 Kokkai) is Japan's bicameral legislature. It is composed of a lower house called the House of Representatives, and an upper house, called the House of Councillors. Both houses of the Dietare directly elected under parallel voting systems. In addition to passing laws, the Diet is formally responsible for selecting the Prime Minister." - Wikipedia.**_

 _ **Review-corner:**_

 _ **Crowdust:** **Haha, thank you! I hope it'll catch on.**_

 _ **Shadowing : Then I hope you'll find this chapter adequate enough :D **_

_**Guest : I aim to please :) Thank you!**_

 _ **RandomDude: Thank you very much for your review! We're slowly progressing to the more interesting parts and now you've gone and put more plot bunnies in my head with the All Might comment. I'm actually rather curious about what he'll be doing myself... Some of my characters kind of have their own life and do whatever they want to.**_

 _ **[edit] I edited a few misspellings. Kinda didn't notice that maiming and crippling are essentially the same - sorry, I'm not exactly a native speaker. I also want to say I'm really thankful for any and all suggestions for grammatical, spelling or inconsistency errors in the story. And also suggestions to the story itself naturally, I'm all to happy to adopt your ideas :D**_

 ** _Much much later I'm probably adding a little sprinkling of romance - any suggestions for pairings? I'm open for anything._**

* * *

"You cannot buy the revolution. You cannot make the revolution. You can only be the revolution. It is in your spirit, or it is nowhere."  
― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed

* * *

 _Nine_

 _12 years_

* * *

When she visited on a sunny winter day to distribute a few blankets that she'd stolen from veranda chairs in her immediate neighbourhood, she found a _nightmare_.

Her people, _her kin_ , lay on the ground, motionless. Something in her brain didn't _, couldn't_ process the sight. There was no blood. No sign of why they did not stand when she entered, because they always greeted each other heartfully. And then she noticed the _man_.

Standing smack dab in the middle of the warehouse, back hunched, grey hair pulled up in a tight bun, and eyes razor-sharp and assessing. He reminded her of an old Chinese dragon, preening in the face of his enemies defeat – standing guard over his hoard.

She didn't run at him in a rage - like she really wanted to _, because how dare he_? Instead, she carefully placed the blankets beside herself and closed the door without leaving him out of her eyes.

A cold fury wound itself down her back, made her stand straight, made her eyes gleam and made the drums start _pound pound_ _pounding_.

 _"What happened to them?"_ , her voice was without infliction. She had to take a few deep breaths to make the red clouding her vision recede slightly, when he let out a nonchalant:

"Me, obviously. _I_ happened to them, girl."

She couldn't lose her head. _She wouldn't lose her head._

She slowly drew closer to one of the smaller children and knelt to check her pulse. It was there and seemed to be normal _\- she was no expert, really_ , but in her view it seemed to be okay that it was even _there_.

"What did you do to them?", hastily she stood again when he took a step near her and almost without thought she fell into the tight, ducked form of the freestyle fighting form Munchkin taught her.

"Oh- what's that supposed to be?", he twirled his thin moustache lazily.

"Do you perhaps want to fight me? I heard there were fighters here - people who were interested in freedom, in equality and in fraternity."

His eyes twinkled ominously.

 _Where did he-?_ It was much too soon. _Much too soon_ for them to gain notice. They had only just started infiltrating smaller groups of yakuza, of corrupt vendors, of a court agency where they needed someone to file papers ASAP _\- and they had started growing_ \- what with their introduction of the internet, a slow, inconspicuous search for followers in their ranks on social sites. And they didn't even have a _name_ yet.

And then she realized, paling dramatically, that she needed him to keep silent. And there was only one real way for her right now to _silence_ him. Permanently.

 _He needed to die. And she needed to kill him._

Because he _knew._

Her hands were shaking, and she felt her heart beating like that of a frightened rabbit – not the comforting _drums_ of conviction, but panicked beats that made her feel _light-headed and weak_.

She didn't want to kill him. _Killing was final. It would be a stain on her soul and she'd never be the same again. That, she felt in her heart._

But she _needed_ to do this, she needed to stop him from giving them away – since he very obviously was an _enemy_ of their cause. _Why else would he knock them out? Did he do this alone? Were there others?_

And then, _she would need to find out who leaked that information – traitor? Victim? Friend or foe?_ They needed a new base, they needed medical help probably _\- oh god what did she do now?_

She felt the world shift slightly around her and took a deep breath. This was not the time to panic. These were _her people_ lying on the ground and their very dreams, their very _worlds_ were hinging on her. And she would _protect them_ and their ideals and dreams.

 _Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité,_ she thought.

" _Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité ",_ she breathed _._

 _Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité – she felt._

And finally, the _drums_ started beating again.

"Ah. Finally.", the man mused. "You're the leader, the visionary of this farce, aren't you? Let's see what you can do." And he smiled with far too many teeth – like the great maws of a beast, mocking and so very confident of his victory.

She leaped at him then, teeth bared, and fists clenched tightly. Her first wild swing sailed past him harmlessly, the second underhand fist aimed at his solar plexus easily redirected. She used the momentum and tried to plant her elbow into his back, but he just stepped away form her attack.

His hands were behind his back and while his eyes burned with fire, his face was tranquil.

He was _playing_ with her.

And after three more attempts at knocking him out – _stalling, stalling, stalling – she didn't want to kill – she was no murderer – what would All M- no no no what would her mother think of her?_ She understood that she was in over her head, that _they_ were in over their heads. He was in a whole other league and it was really no surprise how he could knock out the whole warehouse full of people, when there were no guns around, when the only thing the people here had were knifes and pipes – _weapons were expensive, and they had only just really started._

He huffed, slightly put out, and closed his eyes for a second – and that was an opening if she ever saw one. She grabbed her trusty knife, smoothly lifting it out of her pocket and _sprang,_ feinted to the left when she saw his eyes open and _widen with realization_ and felt a sharp, jarring jab at her wrist and her the knife fell out of her hand, suddenly numb – suddenly _useless._ She rolled once and lurched to her feet, left hand unable to move and a slight graze on her shoulder burning under her shirt. Her eyes zeroed in on her knife and she _moved_ , intent on getting her only realistic way of protection back, _because he was just so very fast_.

And because he was so very fast, it looked completely effortless how he swiped the knife up and in the same move planted his elbow into her spine.

She felt numb. She couldn't move.

Izuku felt panic clawing at her throat – she'd _lost._ This _couldn't be_ their end. _They were needed. Someone_ needed to change the world, _someone_ needed to help those who couldn't, wouldn't help themselves.

In this very moment, for a millisecond of a thought she _hoped –_ for help, for a _hero_ , before she squashed this thought – _this manifestation of an illness –_ violently, because they didn't need _heroes, not her- not now, they needed no person with a sparkly quirk to save them- never-never-never._

She roared internally, because no muscle in her face moved, no muscle in her body _obeyed_ her command. She felt _trapped._

A face appeared in her vision.

"Ho?", the man smiled, wicked _wicked wicked._

"Hello, little _lioness_. I think I would very much like to talk with you now."

The man vanished for a few seconds and returned with a chair, rickety and old, but one of the most comfortable parts of furniture around here.

"I disabled your ability to use some of your muscle-groups by jabbing one of the _máxué points_ near your spine. Don't worry, the effects will wear off after a while."

She tried to move enough to see a little more than his pant-legs – they looked kind of like a part of old shaolin monk robes, only in dark grey instead of bright orange – and accomplished exactly nothing with her attempt.

"So, you see, I am here because we have kind of a predicament on our hands with you rallying the youth, infecting them with ideas of _grandeur_ and making a complete mess out of the whole thing, by being far too predictable. We of the _Zìyóu Operation_ , situated in parts of China and Japan, would be interested in reaching out a helping hand – so to say."

The old man smiled and she shuddered – in anticipation, in horror, in _hope_.

An _ally_?

He was, _they were_ and the revolution _grew_ that day – in man-power, in dreams, in _hopes_.

And Fan Jian-long turned out to be an excellent teacher.

And a _mind reader._

* * *

 _Ten_

 _13 years_

* * *

Dim Mak, the touch of death or the death-point striking, was an old Chinese art of fighting that was said to be unrealistic, because most meridian points were about 1-3mm wide and it was almost impossible to strike the right points while in motion.

Almost impossible.

 _Zìyóu_ as a whole became a constant in her peoples' life and they brought with them years of underhanded tactics already in use with their own government, weapons, money, influence and Dim Mak – a way to effectively take out quirk-users with only precision and speed.

They didn't have a leak like she first suspected, _Sifu_ Jian-long had been searching for like-minded individuals in Japan, sifting through minds and trying to find people who wanted to join their forces. It was pure luck that he had found Ki, ambling along and thinking intently on his role in the _revolution, the liberation._

And he needed to make an impression, he needed to appear strong and he needed to know how resolved they were to fight against _almost_ impossible odds. Because it was an uphill battle and there would be many people standing in their way, they wouldn't want to budge an inch because they were comfortable like this and the _quirkless, the lesser people_ were too few and too weak to rebel – _or so they thought._

Izuku brainstormed with her people for a few nights over their name – now that they had a sister-organisation that had their back, they needed one for obvious reasons. During their discussion she quite often looked back in her minds eye at the painting of the free people – and who were the ones feeling suppressed then?

"The Sans-culottes mostly.", she murmured and after gaining a few curious looks she explained. "The Sans-culottes – or rather the 'without knee pants' were the poor worker class in France."

"So we could call ourselves Sans-culottes?", Kokoni offered, but most faces looked doubtful.

"We don't want to be known as the people without pants on.", Munchkin quipped and there were a few snickers exchanged.

"No, no, we want to be known as something positive, something that we _have_ rather than something that we _don't_ have. Zìyóu is Chinese for 'Freedom', so we should probably go with something similar. What do we have, that the _others_ might be lacking in?", Izuku mused.

There were a few proposals – reaching from 'Courage', to 'Fearlessness', to 'Strength', to 'Cunning' and then…

"What we have… is _hope_. _Hope_ for a better future, _hope_ for freedom, _hope_ for the world to see us as more than useless baggage.", Ami, a tiny girl with too big and too old eyes for her face murmured and gained nods and words of agreement.

"Hm… so in French, if we follow along with the French revolution theme – that would be _'L'espoir'_ – _the hopeful_. In Japanese, it would be called _‚Yūbōna'_."

There were sparkles in Munchkins eyes, her one white and one red eyebrow narrowing and a challenge in her eyes when she raised her hand high up in the air and shouted:

"I'm all for Yūbōna! Who's with me?" The majority raised their hands and a shout rang out:

" _We are the hopeful! We are Yūbōna! For a better future! À votre santé!"_

Cups of all sizes and shapes clinked together and Izuku felt a warm glow in her chest.

 _This was her home, this was her famille._

* * *

Fan Jian-long was a patient man, so when his disciple returned a little later than expected to their third hideout – shared currently by fifteen _Yūbōna_ and five _Zìyóu,_ he calmly set down his tea and rose from his relaxed lotus-position to greet her properly. Both organisations had taken up a habit of grabbing the other by the shoulder, pressing both ring finger and middle finger just a little harder into the flesh than the others. They were positioned right behind the collarbone and it would only take a little more pressure to bring the other to their knees. It was a show of respect and trust between the individuals and also between the two organisations and could easily be mistaken for a simple pat on the shoulder.

"You're late.", Fan stated and Izuku had the decency to look slightly guilty.

"I was followed for a while, one of my classmates, he's had it out for me for a while. I shook him off.", there was something wistful, nostalgic in her gaze and Fan made a point of not looking her directly in the eyes as to not pry into her thoughts.

"You are sure of that?"

"Yes, absolutely."

Izuku had been minding her own business after school, just drifting through the crowd, avoiding the most popular hero-villain fight hotspots, when Katsuki – the damn _branleur_ \- ran into her and started ranting at her because she was _standing in his way_. It dissolved into his usual shouting and her usual slinking away at the first notice of his inattention. He'd followed her for a while and she'd made sure to include some extra detours into her normal path. He stopped following her when he noticed that she'd made her way to her own neighbourhood, obviously sure in the knowledge that she wasn't doing anything interesting with her life.

Izuku returned her attention to her Sifu who had returned to his place on the soft pillow placed in front of a traditional low-table. She joined him and absentmindedly grabbed one of the cups set out and filled it to the brim.

"How are the operations processing?", Jian-long asked and settled back a little.

"We infiltrated the human trafficking ring in the east-city and managed to help 20 people escape, five of them joined us right off the bat, another two said they'd think about it. The heroes apprehended the rest of the ring a few days after our people fled. There are also people running around with the kanji for 'Hope' (希) on their clothes – which could be unrelated to our cause, but I really rather think that our debut on YouTube made a few people think."

They'd opened an account on YouTube and were now supplying the channel with videos that questioned the government and the way the quirkless and the ones with lesser quirks were pushed to the _outskirts_ of society – forced to work with a _smaller wage_ , forced to work in the positions at the _bottom_ of the food chain. They encouraged people to think for themselves, to research, to try to find evidence behind the propaganda that was spread by the main media.

And all of their videos featured people clothed in long white pants – a homage to the Sans-culottes, a plain black hoodie and a white Noh-mask that featured only the kanji for 'Hope' centred on the forehead in blood red colour and provided two slits to see through.

They were certainly gaining popularity with the masses with their announcements, with their sabotage of big companies discriminating their less fortunate employees, with their disregard of societies crates, with their _black-mailing_ of the higher-ups, with their _pure conviction_ that the quirkless and all those that were seen as _less_ were in fact _not_.

Their ranks were still growing in size, some only silent supporters off the site, some actively helping with the planning, the gathering of information, the strategizing. They were planning not only a revolution, but also as a possible brute-force solution: a coup d'état. Which would really be the most unreliable way to get the quirkless to be accepted – it would be the way to cast unnecessary suspicion on people who had it hard anyways – without them trying a violent take-over. So that would be their last stand, if all else failed.

 _Which it wouldn't._ She hoped.

They planned to make a bigger announcement soon and try a bigger way to be seen. And really, they didn't want to hurt anybody, they just wanted to make a _statement._ To show people that they were _there and they were watching and they were waiting._

And in the next two years, the House of Councillors would _burn._

And then, they would make _their first demands_ of the government.

And they would listen, because they already had so much _dirt_ on _every single one_ of the Kokkai.

* * *

 _Eleven_

 _14 years_

* * *

 _"Okay, you are all in third grade now! In other words, it is now or never that you should think of your future! Here are your Career Aspiration Documents!"_

Izuku stared at one of her many notebooks, encrypted to hell and back, seeming like nothing more than an ordinary journal from a middle-school hero-worshipping girl. Which it partially was, only with a few additions in the form of complex Dim Mak moves, and all vital points of the body: hūnxué – for making your opponent faint, yǎxué - muteness, máxué – paralysis and sǐxué - _death_ , with observations of her classmates, teachers, other staff members and everyone she deemed to be interesting – for blackmail or recruiting purposes alike.

It also had the tiny difference that she wasn't exactly worshipping heroes – _she wasn't, never again, she wouldn't -_ and rather held an intense analysis of their moves, of their habits, everything she could dig up on them. Because it was better to know your _enemy_.

And that would be what most of them would amount to be at one point. She didn't think that the people that earned their living with crime-fighting would be all that enthused about the people uprising to gain a better standing in their society, which would make their precious balance tip into other directions and probably cause unsuspected changes that could make their standing as upstanding citizens _crumble and break_.

 _Because there were statistics that showed that heroes were faster in helping people with quirks, people who had a high standing, people who were worth more in their eyes._

A cacophony of noise crested over her head like a tsunami and she raised her eyes to her classmates showing off their quirks in tandem - flinging objects in the air, unnaturally stretching their extremities, coating their bodies in rocks, bursting fire from their fingertips.

And for half a second, she felt _pitch_ _black jealousy_ rise up her throat, leaving a foul taste on her tongue and burning in her nose like sulfur and acid. She squashed the feeling, bundling it up tightly and stuffing it into the farthest reaches of her mind – into the little black box that only she knew about – that only she _could know about and no one else, because what would the others say if they knew-? Knew that sometimes she wanted to be like those other ones-_.

"Don't put me in the same box as these weak secondary characters!", Katsuki crowed and jumped on top of his desk.

"Ah yes indeed, Bakugou, you want to go to Yuuei Highschool, don't you?"

"Yeah and I'll leave my name forever in the Annual Ranking of the Richest People in the world! I will surpass All Might himself!", he shouted.

 _Disgusting_ , Izuku thought, her jaw set. _And this would be protecting people – this thing, this disgrace, this absolute bâtard. He's just in it for the money and fame. I could do it better- I would do it better, if I just-_ she gritted her teeth. _No. Even without quirk, I could make him eat his words._ Her fists clenched under the table.

 _She wasn't only Izuku, most importantly she was part of Yūbōna and she was stronger for it- this was what mattered._

"Now that we're talking about it, I think little Midoryia would also like to go to Yuuei, what with her being such a fan of heroes? Am I right?"

The room was deathly silent, every single eye fixed on her and she felt a sharp stab of annoyance lance through her – _even the teachers tried to make her miserable._

And her reaction was only born out of spite when she gave the class a gullible smile and said:

 _"Maybe."_

It really was no surprise to her when the class burst out into laughter and voiced their doubts. Or when Katsuki, ever the charming gent, violently blew up her desk.

" _What are you capable of anyway?"_

She was capable of _killing_ him in over thirty ways and _maiming_ him in over seventy more right at this very moment – and he wouldn't be able to stop her.

 _Someday, they would see… oh they would see._


	5. The Mighty Hero - The Carnage of Hope

**You thought this story was dead, huh? Kinda thought so too and I'm really sorry about that. I started working part-time - still over 30 hours workload and additionally I'm writing my master thesis - so you can guess it. I'm hardcore procrastinating right now, resulting in this.**

* * *

Revolutions have never lightened the burden of tyranny: they have only shifted it to another shoulder.

\- George Bernard Shaw

* * *

 _The Mighty Hero - The Carnage of Hope_

* * *

"Stupid Deku!"

If that was supposed to make her feel offended, Bakugou didn't know her very well. _No one here really did, did they?_

She hummed noncommittally and took care in closing the latches on her backpack – her notes safely stored and out of reach of nefarious people with a severe case of bitch face.

"Oi!", he screamed next and this time Izuku spared him a glance, smiling guilelessly and tucking a strand of shortish green hair behind her ear.

"Yes?"

"Are you fucking serious?!" Izukus' eyebrows drew together, and she stood when a fist violently descended onto her desk. The loud boom almost swallowed his first words, but she heard him scream about being the first of their school to enter Yuuei.

And wanting to be the only one to even _try_.

Izuku felt something cold into her bones and she shifted into a stance of false relaxation, muscles loose, eyes blank.

How could someone be so _selfish?_ If she was interested in this stupid, childish hero-school everyone was so very enthused about, she would _never_ try to make it harder on anyone that would _try_ to live their _dream_. _How could he?_

She didn't want to answer him, so she kept her mouth shut, eyes still carefully blank.

"You got no spirit at all, you know? Stupid Deku. You're like a fucking dumb cow with those dumb, vacant eyes."

He laid a hand on her shoulder and she calculated the time and area she had at her disposal to make him _stop_.

"And dumb cows don't go to the entering contest of Yuuei!"

With that, he pushed her away and while she did stumble slightly, she regained her footing almost immediately, silently berating herself that she didn't manage to shift her centre of gravity fast enough.

Bakugou and his lackeys turned and-

"I forgot. There is a way for you to become a hero actually-"

Her heart _leaped_ for a shameful second.

"You can jump off the roof and if you believe hard enough, you might even have a quirk in your next pathetic life."

Something ugly and angry reared its head in her heart, something hurt and violent and full of rows of sharp teeth and furious black eyes and for a second her vision narrowed down on his head and she felt herself losing _control_ -

She was two steps away from him when she forced herself to stop, forced herself to calm down, because in the grand scheme _he did not matter._ He was a peon on a board of big players – one of which she herself would be s _oon._

"Huh, you got something to say, Deku?", Bakugou turned the slightest bit and Izuku blinked.

"No. No I don't.", she whispered, voice raw. She wanted to _hurt_ him _._

* * *

She was wandering outside, frown on her face, backpack firmly strapped on and steps light enough to make nary a sound. A breeze whispered through her hair and she absentmindedly noticed that some idiots had thrown a plastic bag full of empty bottles into the small koi pond behind the school. If her path would have taken her straight home then she wouldn't have bothered going this way, but as it stands, she was on her way to a meeting with the revolutionary part of her _family_.

Which brought her to the initial reason a frown was marring her face, eyes thoughtfully caught on the bobbing bottles. They'd caught wind of a human trafficking organization – which in itself was a worrying thing anyway, but the real catch was that they were taking the victims to an underground facility, military with machine guns protecting entrances and barbed wire with additional video surveillance leaving even the most curious people to take their leave.

Yūbōna got one of their brothers inside, Ben, if she recalled correctly. He was a European that was abandoned by his parents during a business trip in Japan and only recently joined the revolution. They haven't heard from him in the last two weeks, no relayed messages by his minor messaging quirk having reached their destination. And that was worrying. While Ben was new, he already had two undercover missions under his belt and had been a flawless spy, providing them inside information in first the police as an attendant and next in a mafia led restaurant.

Her eyes focused.

She was sure she heard-

 **BANG**

With a horrible screech, the manhole cover to her right _exploded_ outwards and hit the tunnel overhead, causing debris to rain down on her.

"Invisibility cloak size S…", a voice gurgled and in another life she would have looked behind her in fear, would have been caught right ahead, would have been used as a puppet and probably murdered by this vile piece of garbage-

But in this life – she was the _leader_ of the _Yūbōna_ , the one that sparked hope in her peoples' hearts, the one that started the _drums._

 _It would not end here._

She fell forward, tucked into a roll, sprinting further into the darkness of the tunnel. She heard a curse behind her and liquid sloshing on the ground, gaining fast.

 _Liquid._

Which meant most physical attacks would not work, although most quirk users that could change their molecular level to such a degree as to change to gas or liquid had at least _one_ part of their body in a solid shape to anchor them to this plane.

She calmly grabbed her trusty knife and pivoted on her heel. Brown liquid roared at her with incredible speed – a grotesquely large mouth with rotten yellow teeth and one big eye greeted her sight.

 _Ah. There it is._

The eye, that is.

The massive form of the villain almost took the whole horizontal space inside the tunnel, but a small sliver of empty space gaped at his right side. She tucked and rolled, managing to avoid the frontal attack.

The villain changed direction, a sneer curling his giant mouth.

"You're a feisty chick? Huh? Well, I would have made this a little less painless for you, you being a cute little girly and all, but now you've gone and annoyed me."

He bared his teeth, his eye narrowed.

In her head, the drums started pounding – and she _smiled._

"Don't fear, little schoolgirl! Because I am here!" – another voice boomed behind her, the sound echoing through the tunnel.

A presence soared over her, radiating heat and light and- _oh._

This was-

Her breathing hitched.

All Might leaped at the villain and roared a violent "Texas Smash" at the face of the villain, his fist not even touching him before he got rendered into a giant mess covering the inside surface of the tunnel.

This was-

A gleaming blond head styled rather peculiarly turned to her. His eyes were squinted, teeth flashing in a million-dollar smile.

"All Might.", her voice was hushed, eyes wide. This was the reason – he was the reason she'd had those hopes, those dreams all those years ago, to become one of them.

To become a her-

"Haha! I'm glad you're alright, little girl! Normally he shouldn't have even gotten near you, maybe I'm getting a little rusty around the edges, although it might also be because of this new land I found myself in!", he rambled, booming another laugh.

He started gathering slimy pieces of the villain into soda bottles, all the way rambling on and on.

Her heart was in her throat.

"So then, I will take my leave! Thank you for being such a good damsel in distress! Couldn't have been easier getting to him that way!"

Something dark twisted in her heart.

"Hope you follow me on TV and continue to support me!"

There was one thing-

She needed to ask-

She needed to ask him-

"Stop.", she commanded, eyes blank, head pounding and a small _treacherous_ hope clawing at her throat.

"Well, listen here, little girly. I really have no time talking all day with people on the bottom of the social ladder – got no time to lose fighting evil and all that."

 _Bottom of the social ladder?_ Did he really just say that? Did he really just put her several feet beneath him just because she wasn't one of them? Did he know she was-?

He started crouching, muscles rippling, readying himself to take off.

"I'm quirkless.", she said, voice hard. All Might eased his stance, turning to her again. His brows were furrowed, a confused twitch on his cheek.

She wasn't sure if she should ask- her very being rebelled against showing weakness in such a way. But _maybe, maybe he was different._

 _This was All Might, maybe he-_

She swallowed, clenching her fists and noticing she was still clutching her knife – that made her relax, even if it was just a tiny bit.

"Hypothetically, is it possible to become a hero without a quirk?", before he could answer she tacked on: "Is it possible to gain the same high status as someone with a quirk – to leave the _bottom of the social ladder_?"

Unbidden, the last part came out as a sneer, her eyes spitting violent hellfire.

All Might looked serious, pondering for a moment, before he said, quite simply:

"I don't believe that it's possible for a quirkless person to become a hero."

The small, quietly, shamefully nurtured blossom of hope, reserved for the dream she'd had _before_ crumbled, leaving a gaping void and she felt-

"Heroes risk their lives, every single day, to save you and your family.", his voice was stern, almost disappointed.

"Risking your life without a way to defend yourself would mean also risking your teams life!"

Her teeth clenched. She felt-

And then he laughed, almost deprecating in her ears.

"And well, being quirkless doesn't mean you're at the bottom of the pond, doesn't it? You're being pretty dramatic there."

With that, he launched off.

She felt a _blinding, roaring_ _ **hate**_ _take place in her heart._


	6. Interlude: The Number One Hero

**Short Interlude, because I wanted to share a little of All Mights mindset with you. He's not necessarily an asshole - he's just not a hero for everyone anymore and he's lived in a black and white world for a while. Hope you like this.**

 **Thank you for your comments! They're a great motivation for me!**

 **Answering Section:**

 **Shadowing: Yep, he's really not the best with words and kinda has a habit of only seeing what he wants to see imho.  
**

 **KrypticKoala:Thank you, I'm glad you still enjoy this story :)  
**

 **wildtrance: Haha, yeah, her head's kinda in a bad place right now and interesting theory :D**

 **ThePirateQueen367: He's far from perfect, which will be (hopefully) explored a little more throughout the story, but I won't go and bash him - at least I hope I won't. Not that much of a character-bashing fan - altough he will get his ass handed to him in one way or another.**

* * *

History will decide if I'm a villain or a hero - Harlan Ellison

* * *

 _Interlude: The Number One Hero_

* * *

All Might wasn't one to ponder over his actions very often. If there were good guys, he helped them, if there were bad guys, he punched their lights out. It was as simple as that.

And then there was _her_.

He'd been quirkless _before_ , but it felt like a lifetime ago. He only vaguely recalled the feelings of envy and disappointment that left his shoulders hunched and his head bowed back then. It hadn't been that bad, being quirkless, had it? He remembered the smile of his teacher - so bright and full of happiness.

It couldn't be.

He'd saved her from a villain, evil and ghastly and the stuff of nightmares. But before he did, as he jumped over her form, he'd looked down – just for a moment. And he'd seen it.

A _smile_.

Not like his teacher – full of hope and not like a person happy to be rescued, no. It was a bloodcurdling one, edging on _feral_.

He'd rescued her anyway, although he wasn't sure about her being one of the _good guys._

And while he rambled on, he observed her. Watched as her fist close tightly around a _knife_ of all things, noticed the long leggings covering her legs – allowing free movement even with the skirt the local middle-schools uniform consisted of and the way she stood surely, ready to fight or run at a moments notice.

Her eyes were wide – filled with a cautious wonder and he _wasn't sure._

So he'd prepared to leave, her stare making him slightly uncomfortable, reminding him of something – _someone?_

And when she'd told him – confessed to him – about her quirklessness and asked him if _she_ could ever be a hero – because that had been all her question amounted to, he'd been prepared to be nice, to put her down gently.

But her eyes had been spitting fire at him, green slits alight with something close to a wild, uncontrollable forestfire, lapping at trees, animals and humans alike – without a care what she took down with her.

And he'd _decided_ he didn't want her to be _someone_. She'd felt more villainous and dangerous in that moment than many he'd seen for a long time.

It unsettled him.

But she was quirkless and him taking her down a notch would only help her in the long run. Playing hero with that gaze – she'd get everyone around her killed.

He tried to remember back then, _before_ One for All –

It hadn't been that bad, had it?

It couldn't have been.

* * *

In an alley, only two building blocks away, a villain left his plastic prison.

He could not believe his luck.

Who knew the number one hero could be so _easily_ distracted?

A gurgling laugh echoed eerily.


End file.
